Quoting Kerouac
by dirao
Summary: Rory gets drunk at Madelaine's birthday party, somewhere after "One's got class and the other one dyes" and ends up telling Jess how she feels. But the town is small and her voice carries. So much for stealth. One-shot Lit, like espresso. M for languag


**Title:** Quoting Kerouac

**Timeframe:** Somewhere after _One has class and the other one dyes. _

**Summary:** Rory gets drunk at Madelaine's birthday party and tells Jess exactly what she thinks. The town is small and her voice carries. So much for being stealthy. _One shot, Lit._

**Rating:** R for language, and the imagining of sexual situations

**Quoting Kerouac**

She found the invitation pasted to her locker. Not just her locker. Every locker at school had an engraved, sealed invitation, in off-white bridal-announcement kind of paper. Inside, gold lettering and french. Madeleine's "Anniversaire" apparently.

Rory could already imagine it. No such thing as paper plates. People pronouncing _hors d'oeuvre_ with stunning accuracy. Cocktails with names of Parisian streets. Champagne. Not her scene.

She was three seconds away from tossing the invite, when Paris approached her. "You have to go," Paris said.

"Why?" Rory asked, confused.

"Because if you don't go, I'm stuck there with Muffin and Buffy for fifteen minutes until they find the catch-of-the-day."

"Still not getting why I have to go," Rory said, shutting her locker.

"I'll proofread every article Madeline writes for the rest of the year."

Rory narrowed her eyes. "Every article? Even if she decides to write one about the platypus again, you know, the animal name she can't spell?"

"Every article," Paris said, painfully.

"There's gotta be a catch somewhere."

"We shadow each other. I don't want Brian anywhere near me."

"Brian? Senior Brian? Tennis champion Brian?" Rory questioned.

"He's been following me around," Paris said, suspicion in her voice. "Something's up with him."

"Maybe he likes you," Rory volunteered.

"Maybe you're derranged."

"Hey! You're the one asking for the favor, don't get all pissy."

"Sorry." Paris looked at her shoes. "So, you'll do it?"

"Fine."

- - - - - - - - - - -

As Saturday night approached, she felt more and more apprehensive about the party. It wasn't going to be, as Lorelai had aptly put it, her "cup of tea". It wasn't going to be her cup of anything. But Lorelai would be gone for the weekend and lately she hadn't been doing much of anything, her cup or otherwise.

Speaking of which, she'd been craving a cup of Luke's coffee for over a week.

She was avoiding the diner, mainly because Dean was upset that she was getting so cranky every time Jess happened by.

Also, there was the whole making-out-with-the-blonde thing.

Shane. What kind of a name was that?

Rory had been getting more than a little flustered over the whole thing.

Everywhere she turned, there was Jess, his hands on the back pockets of Shane's jeans.

But what was really bothering Rory was that dream she'd been having all week.

She would wake up thirsty and a little shaky, and she would remember only bits and pieces.

There were a few key elements of the dream that repeated themselves every time.

The sound of heavy breathing.

A book dropped on the floor, next to two pairs of sneakers.

Jess's mouth on her breast.

Rory had to blush even just thinking about it.

This sort of heavy make-out sessions were something she had never even considered with Dean. And the fact that she was having these dreams, and waking up to the vivid sensation that Jess had been there, that he had touched her, made walking hand in hand with Dean even harder.

Made it impossible.

The party was almost a relief, in that sense. He'd said he couldn't go and she hadn't pushed it.

Paris had suggested synchronizing watches but Rory had declined, so Paris picked her up at the bus station and drove them both to the Lynn mansion.

- - - - - - - - - -

It had been everything that Rory had predicted and so much more.

It was the party equivalent of a Dr. Seuss book: people dancing on top of tables, people dancing under tables. People dancing on chairs, chairs on the heads of people dancing.

It was Sodom and Gomorra, private school style. Luise had volunteered all her mother's prescriptions, candy colored on a pretty glass bowl. A couple of other kids had chipped in.

Champagne and wine made the rounds on silver platters carried by waiters who only responded to the call of _garcon._ Cocktails weren't far behind. Madelaine's mother lived the delusional, parisian-in-Conneticut life and conveniently forgot the Class A felony that serving alcohol to minors constituted.

"Not that any of our parents would care," Paris pointed out.

"My mom would care," Rory countered.

"Well, she has nothing to worry about, does she?" Paris asked, raising an eyebrow. "Having Little Miss Perfect for a daughter must be such a relief."

Rory said nothing, and Paris knew she'd struck a chord, so she left Rory alone to grab some soda.

Rory took a few steps further into the party, kids she barely knew held colored cups and seemed to be having a great time. Her mind went to Stars Hollow, to Jess's hands in Shane's back pockets. Shane probably drank. Jess probably drank.

She watched the crowd around her jump up and down and sideways to some unsung rhythm that was not carried by the music and she felt like a coward. She had never taken a single risk except for kissing Jess, and that had evidently worked like a charm. She felt like she was missing out on something, she wasn't getting the picture. Things were not clear at all.

There was a fog that separated her from the crowd of jumping teenagers.

Maybe if she had a drink it would dissipate and she would see clearly what it was that kept Jess away.

Maybe.

Just one.

- - - - - - - - - -

Brian had lucked out.

The girl with the blue eyes – didn't she sit behind him in trig? - was walking unsteadily down the corridor, asking each and every kid on her path if they'd seen Paris.

It wasn't an odd question to ask in a French-themed party.

She was slurring her words, and smiling way too widely. Brian knew this could only mean good things.

So he slung an arm around her shoulders and said that, yes, he'd seen Paris, and the Eiffel Tower was just as lovely as everyone said.

"Brian Fuller, you're so full of crap," the Geller kid interrupted. "You weren't in France last summer, you were doing summer school in Utah. And let go of my friend."

"Paris!" Rory exclaimed, her glassy eyes widening giddily.

So that's what she'd meant.

- - - - - - - - - -

Paris drove carefully at granny-speed, lecturing Rory about the dangers of date-rape every mile of the way. She'd been unable to take the bottle of cheap french vodka from Rory, and every once in a while Rory would take a swig and complain about the taste with a very eloquent _yech._

"Stop drinking that," Paris ordered. Rory laughed.

Stars Hollow was quiet and the windows were all but boarded up.

"Small towns at night freak me out," Paris pointed out. "Ok, so the diner's there, that means your house is..."

Rory's eyes became alert. The lights of the diner were out but there was at least a table lamp on in the apartment above it, and that was all it took for a very drunken Rory to react.

"Stop the car!" Rory ordered.

Paris slammed on the breaks, thinking it could be an emergency.

"What? Is there an animal or something?" Paris asked, recovering from the shock. But it was too late now, and Rory was already kicking the door open. She tried to get out, restrained still by the seatbelt. She laughed, unbuckled it, and tried again. This time she succeeded.

"Oh, boy," Paris muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt and following Rory.

Rory approached the diner. She looked down at the bottle in her hand and smiled.

She crouched to the ground and found tiny flints. She started raining them onto Jess's window. Was it Jess's window?

It was.

Jess opened the window and stuck his head out. "Rory, what the hell..."

Paris grabbed Rory's arm, but Rory wouldn't budge.

"Come on out, stop fucking the blonde! Come on out and have a drink!" she exclaimed, holding up the bottle for Jess to see. Then she repeated the same line one more time. "Come on out, stop fucking the blonde! Come on out and have a drink!"

On the neighboring houses, lights started to come on.

Jess swore under his breath. Perfect. Just perfect. She'd found the best Kerouac quote to yell at him in the middle of the night, from the middle of the street, in the middle of this gossip-addled town. He disappeared from the window.

"Jess... come on out!"

"Rory, shut up already," Paris insisted.

"No!" Rory said. "I want Jess to stop fucking the blonde and come talk to me."

"You're drunk," Jess said, walking out of the diner with the most determined stride Rory had ever seen. "And you're making an ass of yourself," he added, his tone contained.

"Jess! You came!" Rory exclaimed, smiling widely. "Have a drink!"

She offered him the bottle. He took it from her. Little old ladies were peeking out of neighboring windows. "Now we can have a drink and talk again," Rory said.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't stop her," Paris apologized.

Jess shrugged. "Come on, Ror. Let's get inside."

"I missed you," she whispered softly, resting her head on his sleeve.

Jess walked her into the diner.

- - - - - - - - - - -

If he'd been forced to admit it (gun on his head, gun to her head too) he would have said he'd missed Rory as well.

His mission of making her jealous by making out with Shane was getting old, and losing its inherent excitement.

Sure, he was a red-blooded teenager just like the next guy, and sex was appealing.

But there was an obvious been there, done that vibe to having sex with Shane. And there was never any of that tension that he felt just by arguing with Rory.

Not that he'd ever admit it without the gun-pointing thing.

"Hey, Kerouac, snap out of it," Paris said, pointing to Rory, who was about to take another swig from the bottle of vodka.

Jess took the bottle and held it out of Rory's reach. "No more booze for you," he said, taking the bottle into the diner's kitchen and pouring it out into the sink.

"Aw, come on, Jess!" Rory complained, trying to stand, but dizziness got the best of her.

"You should get some coffee going," Paris suggested.

"Ooh, coffee," Rory said, grinning widely.

Jess nodded and got right to it. "What happened?" Jess asked.

"Horrible party at Madeleine's. I turn around for thirty minutes and I find her being dragged by one of the tennis players out to the poolhouse. Figured I'd drive her home."

"And you stopped here because?" Jess asked, slamming the filter into the coffee pot.

"She yelled stop. I thought I was about to hit an animal or small child. Then she ran out and the rest will probably be in the Stars Hollow Gazette tomorrow morning," Paris added.

"Where's the blonde?" Rory asked, looking around the room. "Where's Shane?"

Jess shook his head. "She's home, Rory. It's almost two AM and she works early tomorrow."

"So you weren't fucking the blonde?" she asked.

Jess walked over to the table she was sitting at, amazed by the ease with which she could say the word fuck. It rolled off her tongue with effortlessly.

"Rory, come on, you know she's gonna get hell for this tomorrow morning, right? Her parents are gonna hear about you coming here and yelling about a blonde I fucked and she's gonna get, I don't know, shipped off to boot camp or something," Jess said.

Rory bit her lower lip. She was on the verge of tears. "You fucked her?"

"Not tonight," Jess answered, evasive as ever.

"But before?" she asked. Damn her.

Jess nodded. Nothing like honesty to sober someone up. "Yes," he said.

And then Rory threw up on his shoes.

Paris looked away in disgust. "I'll go get a mop."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Paris had helped Rory upstairs while Jess cleaned up downstairs. He stuffed his shoes and pants into a large black garbage bag and went upstairs in his underwear. Paris didn't even flinch. Jess pulled on a pair of sweatpants and watched from the doorway as Paris walked Rory over to the living room. She hadn't thrown up again, and Paris seemed relieved.

Rory's shirt and hair were a mess, and she was half-awake, half-asleep.

"We should get her cleaned up," Jess said.

Paris cringed. "Bodily fluids are not my thing."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed," Jess echoed. "You weren't much help downstairs."

"I should be getting home," Paris said, grabbing her purse.

"Not so fast," Jess said, stopping her. "At least, you know, help with the whole alibi thing. Was Rory supposed to sleep over at your house or something?"

"No," Paris said, thinking. "But Lorelai isn't supposed to be home. She went away on some trip somewhere."

"Ok, good. You know when she'll be back?"

"Monday," Rory chimed in.

Jess sighed. "Good. We have contact. Ok, Paris, I want you to take Rory's cellphone and if Lorelai calls you say she's in the shower or something. Then you call here and tell me and I'll have her call Lorelai back when she sobers up."

"Your number's on this?" Paris asked, taking the celphone from Rory's purse.

Jess nodded. "It's probably under Luke or Diner."

Paris scrolled down. "Nope. Wait, there it is. It says Jess."

Jess shrugged. "Huh."

Paris raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah. I better go. I'm parked so illegally this town might just grow a traffic cop just to ticket me." She started down the stairs but stopped herself. "Wait, what do I do if Dean calls?"

"Stall."

"Stall. Right. Gotcha."

"Bye, Paris," Rory whispered, her wave almost making her lose balance. "I don't feel so good," she moaned.

Jess waved Paris away and walked over to Rory, helping her to the bathroom.

- - - - - - - - -

Jess held Rory's messed up hair off her face and helped her so she wouldn't fall as she vomited.

"Water," she whispered. "Please?"

"You done?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "I'm so so sorry." Tears started rolling down her cheeks.

He wasn't sure he could deal with this. He'd always seen perfect, unattainable Rory. He'd never seen her so... undone. "I'll get you some water, just... sit still, ok?"

She nodded.

When he came back with the glass of water, he found her half asleep on the toilet seat rim. Jess sighed. He grabbed a washcloth and moistened it with warm water, and started cleaning her face.

"Rory..." he whispered. "Rory, wake up."

"I'm sorry, Jess," she said.

"Sh... later... We have to get you cleaned up first, ok?"

Rory nodded. She was sobering up, if only just a bit. "I puked on myself, didn't I?"

"On me too," Jess said. "I have a shirt for you. If you take that one off I'll throw it in the wash."

Rory nodded. "Turn around."

"Sure you won't fall?" Jess asked, concerned.

"I think not. I'm on the floor."

Jess turned around. Rory took off her t-shirt and bra and cleaned her neckline with the washcloth. If she were steadier on her feet, she would have opted for a shower. She noticed her hair was all sticky as well and decided she needed to wash that first, before putting on a t-shirt.

"Could you give me a towel, please?" she asked.

Jess handed her a fresh towel without turning to see her.

She wrapped herself in the towel and tossed the soiled clothes to the side. "I need to wash my hair... it smells."

Jess nodded. "I'll help you."

She wanted to argue, but she didn't have enough strength to get off the floor. "I don't... can you..."

"Just lean your head back into the tub, ok?" Jess instructed. "I'll take care of it."

- - - - - - - -

Rory walked unsteadily out into the Danes living room, a towel wrapped around her hair and wearing one of Jess's oversized t-shirts. Jess helped her to a chair at the kitchen table and poured her coffee.

"I owe you shoes," she said, the shame creeping up on her face in a nice shade of red.

"You owe me an explanation," Jess said, setting the coffee cup down in front of her.

Rory took it, her hands wrapping around the warmth of it, breathing in the scent of the freshly brewed liquid. "How did you learn to wash someone else's hair?" she asked, her eyes closed.

"That's called evasion," Jess answered.

"So is that."

"I asked first."

Rory took a sip of the scalding liquid. It burned her taste buds, but she swallowed hard. Served her right. "I don't know what got into me. I was drunk."

"Still are, a little," Jess pointed out.

"Why, Jess? Why are you with her?"

"We already had this conversation. In Doose's market. And you're with Dean."

Rory slammed the cup on the table. "You don't get it, do you? I tried to write to you. Every day I started three different letters and then I couldn't figure out what to say to make it better. I thought, maybe all I have to do is see him in person. But when I do see you, you're sucking face with that-"

"Hey!" Jess warned. "She hasn't done anything to you, so you should at least respect her."

"Sorry," Rory said, her eyes on the table. "Oh, God, I said something horrible about her on the street. She's gonna be in trouble because of me," she added, her head falling to her hand. "I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid. You were drunk, but you're not stupid."

Rory looked at him sideways. "Well, I'm not that smart either."

Jess shrugged. "I'm right here. Shane's not here, Dean's not here. So tell me now."

Rory laughed, the alcohol in her system still clouding her better judgement, loosening her tongue. "I dream about you sometimes. I dream about kissing you and I dream of... being with you."

Jess watched her expressions carefully. Her eyes were open at half-mast and still a bit glassy. He wanted to stop her, to stop her whispered confessions because he didn't want to deal with their consequences, but also because he wanted her to be sober. But he knew this was what he was getting. Maybe it would have to do.

"I dream about you in ways that I never dream of Dean," she whispered, looking down at her hands. "I dreamt of your shoes and mine, on the floor, next to a bed. You know?"

Jess filled in the blanks. "I think I do."

"I wanted you to wait for me. Just until I could clear my head, but then it all got so muddy. And you didn't wait and then she... she's so perfect. She's pretty and she's blonde, bottle blonde but blonde anyway. And she has experience and she... she has long legs. And I get it, I get why you didn't wait, because I can't be her."

"I don't want you to be her," Jess confessed.

Silence. Neither of them looked up. Rory took another swig of coffee, Jess looked at his hands. "And now I said awful things and Dean... Oh, God, Dean's gonna hear about it, about how I came in here and I didn't leave and... I have to get home, because he'll call and... where's my phone?" Rory started to freak out. She stood up and nearly tripped on her shoes. Jess held her up.

"Rory, stop for a second, ok?"

Rory nodded. It was strange, having his hands gripping her arms, being inches away from him. "He doesn't deserve this. Shane doesn't deserve this. I just made their names mud."

"You'll apologize," Jess said.

"They'll hate me," Rory whispered, tears springing from her eyes.

"They have a right to feel whatever they feel," Jess volunteered.

Rory sniffled. "I miss you, I miss talking to you, ok? I wouldn't have gone so crazy if we could just... still talk, you know?"

Jess nodded. "In the morning, you're going to have to make some choices. You're going to have to decide whether you want to tell Dean what's really going on or just chalk it up to Mrs. Lauderman's senility and the drinking. Whether or not you'll apologize to Shane. But that's tomorrow morning, ok? You should get some sleep now. Let the Drunk Rory wear off."

"My mom's gonna call and she's gonna freak out that I'm not home."

"We'll deal with that when we come to it. Just..." Jess couldn't believe he was still holding her so close. "Sleep a little."

"I want to kiss you now," Rory started.

Jess smiled. "That's the booze talking."

"But I haven't brushed my teeth," Rory concluded.

"That's the coffee talking. Bed now."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The rumor mill was, of course, faster than Jess was, and Shane was way up on the top of the Phone Tree for gossip.

So it didn't surprise Jess when Shane walked into the diner, middle of the opening rush, and screamed "You PIG!" at him.

Jess tried to take her outside to apologize, but Shane waved him away. "You know what? Fuck you. I'm not going out with some asshole who tells another chick what we're doing. Specially when the chick's a FREAK who tells the WHOLE TOWN."

"Shane, come on, you're turning this into a bigger deal that it already is," Jess attempted, approaching her, but she was already halfway out the door.

Shane flipped him the bird and walked away. "Tell it to someone who cares, dickface."

She walked down the street, leaving a string of open windows with little old ladies staring out in her wake, and a diner-full of people to gossip.

- - - - - - - - -

The screaming had woken Rory up of her fitful sleep.

It was one thing to have racy dreams about Jess.

It was an entirely different thing to have drunken racy dreams of Jess when sleeping in his bed.

She sat up from the haze to hear Shane's screams, Jess's attempt to appease her.

The exchange ended and then there was town silence.

"Crap," Rory whispered to herself.

Her mouth was dry, her head pounded and she was somewhere between nauseous and starving. Also, she was now prevented fully from walking downstairs to the diner.

She waited, trying to delve into her cloudy mind to remember all she'd done and said the previous night. And if her memory served her right, then the small breakdown she was having at the moment, tears and hyperventilating and all, wasn't far off base.

So when Jess walked in, he found Rory curled up in fetal position and sniffling.

"I'm sorry," she said, sensing his presence. "Everything I touch lately just... it just goes straight to hell."

Jess sat beside her in bed, in the space her knees would allow him. "Like what?" he asked.

"You and Shane. Dean and I." She looked up at Jess. "I kissed you and now you can't stand me."

"Rory," he said, pushing her hair out of her face. "You know that's not true."

"I'm sorry about Shane," she said, softly. She sat up. "Is there a back exit? I need to go warn Dean... get yelled at..."

Jess shook his head. "Just wait until five. I'll close early. Luke's not gonna be back for another week or so, he won't mind."

Rory sniffled. "Ok."

"You should call your mom."

Rory looked at Jess curiously. "From here?"

"She'll just think you're at the diner."

"'kay."

"I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Mom?" Rory asked into the phone.

"My darling daughter, where have you been? I've been calling your cell phone like crazy."

"It kind of died on me," Rory lied.

"And the house phone?" Lorelai asked.

"I've been out. I'm at Luke's."

Lorelai paused, suspicious. "He's letting you used the behind-the-counter phone?"

"Luke's not here. Cesar let me."

"Right, that makes more sense."

"Mom?" Rory asked shakily.

"Is everything alright, kiddo?"

"Everything's fine... just... can we talk, when you come home?"

"Of course, babe. You can talk to me about anything. But can you give me a preview?"

Rory sighed. "Mom..."

"Just a yes or no answer to the following question. Sex?"

"NO!" Rory exclaimed.

Long exhalation. "Good. Ok. No other hints?" Lorelai asked nervously.

Rory took a deep breath. "Remember that book I read that you loved the title of?"

"Yeah. It was... _A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again,_ right?"

"Right. Well, I did the thing. And it's not fun. And I'll never, ever, do it again."

"Got drunk, didn't you?" Lorelai said, snickering. "Huh. Well, how about we talk about it when I get home?"

Rory wasn't sure what to make of Lorelai's reaction. "Ok. Should I be worried?"

"Let me work up my anger. I'm just so glad it wasn't sex or a car wreck right now. On Monday I'll be an angry parent again, I promise," Lorelai said. "Bye, sweets."

Rory sighed with relief. It would feel so good to get grounded. "Bye, mom."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Jess cleared everyone out by five, as he'd predicted, and he closed up the place and turned the lights off before anyone got any other ideas. Sunday afternoon was the time when all the weirdos came out, Luke liked to say, and this was not the day to have a run-in with Kirk.

He walked up to the apartment and opened the door, to find Rory sitting crosslegged on the couch, shoes off, waiting. She was attempting to read, but she'd let the book fall on her lap when she heard him walking up the stairs.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied.

"I brought you pie," he said, offering her a slice of blueberry pie.

Rory sighed, closing the book and putting it aside. "I don't deserve pie."

Jess handed her the plate. "You're getting some anyway."

"Thanks," she said, with a smile. "Headache's gone."

"I knew this guy from Ecuador, back in New York, he used to say that '_El chuchaqui fisico dura cinco horas, el chuchaqui moral dura toda una vida._' It means that a physical hangover lasts five hours, but the moral hangover lasts you a lifetime."

"Gee, thanks," Rory whispered.

"What's the worse thing that can happen?" Jess asked.

"Dean hating me. My mother's look of disappointment," Rory admitted.

Jess sat next to Rory. "Not Dean breaking up with you?" Jess asked.

"It's not fair to him, you know?" Rory said, picking imaginary lint off Jess's knee. "To be with him when I'm thinking of you all the time." She sighed, looking up into his eyes. "It's not fair to you either."

He looked away in silence.

Rory let her hand drop to the couch. "I'm not suggesting something's going to happen between us just because I break up with him, what I mean is..."

Jess's fingertips tentatively found Rory's fingers. The next thing he knew, he was entwining his fingers with hers. "Okay," he said, because it was all he could say.

She looked at his hand joined with hers, mesmerized. "Okay," she echoed.

"You have to go," he whispered.

She nodded. "I do."

Neither one of them moved.

- - - - - - - - - - -

She could've rung the doorbell. She could've knocked on the front door. Instead, she climbed up the tree and knocked on Dean's bedroom window.

He looked at her, a mix of disappointment and sadness etched on his face. She had never understood the power she had over him until she had realized she could cause his face to fall like that.

He walked over to the window and cracked it open.

"Hi," she said, softly.

He obviously expected more. "I called your celphone but Paris had it. I called your house and left twenty messages. I hear from everyone in town that you've been yelling outside Jess's window, drunk," Dean started.

"Dean, I -" she attempted, but Dean held up a hand and stopped her from speaking.

"And now you show up, here, wearing his T-shirt?" he spat out. "What kind of sick joke is this Rory?"

Rory tried to keep her face strong, unmoving. She'd forgotten all about the t-shirt. "I got drunk last night, and I threw up all over my clothes and Jess lent me this," she explained, as if explaining the shirt suddenly made everything else disappear.

"So you got drunk? That's your excuse for spending the night with Jess? For yelling outside his window like he's your boyfriend?" Dean whispered, and it was worse than yelling. She didn't deserve yelling. For a second, Rory thought she might fall off the roof.

"I got drunk and did some pretty stupid things. But I let myself get into this situation because I didn't know how to... I don't know how to say it, Dean, but we're not who we used to be. Or maybe it's just that I'm not who I used to be, I'm not the girl you fell in love with, and it's not fair to you that I - "

"Oh, no. You don't get to do that, Rory," Dean said. "You don't get to decide when this is over. You're the one wrecking everything and I'm the one that's calling it, Rory. I'm breaking up with you. I say it's over," he added, anger bubbling inside him.

"It's been over for a while," Rory whispered. "But I didn't want it to end badly, I wanted things to -"

"I don't want to see you again," Dean said, slamming the window closed. The blinds closed soon after.

She sat on his roof for three minutes, crying.

Then, drying her tears, she climbed back down the tree and face the other round of music.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

She should've gone home, but her feet had other ideas. There she was, on the path to the bridge. And there he was, shining, beautiful in the distance.

All she wanted to do was run the other way and hide.

All she wanted to do was run up to him and kiss him.

Her feet moved by inertia alone. And then she was there, right there, standing beside his sitting form.

"Hey," he said, looking up at her.

He found her tear-stained cheeks mesmerizing. He wanted to find the magic trick that would prevent her from crying ever again, but he knew his beginners magic could provoke tears with much more ease than it could stop them.

"May I - " she asked, pointing to the empty space beside him.

He wanted to say no.

He wanted to slide off the bridge and into the water, unnoticed, silent.

He wanted to disappear from wherever she wished to be, because he didn't know how to be her choice.

But his head moved of its own accord and he found himself nodding.

Tentatively she sat, cross-legged and confused, slow and clumsy. Her foot slipped and she ended up making a bang noise agaisnt the wood. "Ouch," she said, rubbing her hip.

Jess laughed merrily, one of the few hearty laughs he'd ever heard from him, and it was contagious. She laughed at herself, at her mistakes, along with him. It was freeing.

"Classy," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I can see now why you're too good for me," Jess said, the smile disappearing from his face as he completed the sentence.

"Who was it again that got drunk and made an ass of herself?" Rory asked.

"That would be you," Jess answered, still looking away.

"And you would be the perfect gentleman whose shoes I threw up on."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"So what you're trying to say is..." Jess started.

"By the time the news gets around town, maybe you'll be too good for me," Rory completed.

"Nah," Jess countered. "Taylor will find a way to spin it, save the town princess."

Rory closed her eyes in disgust. "I hate it when you call me that."

"Sorry," he muttered, a genuine apology. He wasn't trying to knock her. He tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. "How did the Jolly Green Giant take that?"

"I've never had a window slammed in my face before," Rory said.

Jess looked out into the water. "Trust me, it gets easier."

Rory wanted to trust him. She wanted that more than anything else in the world. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to recall the previous night with more clarity. "Hey, I asked you a question last night that you didn't answer."

"What was that?" Jess asked.

"You knew how to wash my hair. How'd you know that?" She kept her eyes closed, because she knew that if she looked at him, he would look away.

"You are the drunk with the best memory I've ever met," Jess said. "You were supposed to forget all about last night and I was supposed to remind you at will for my own enjoyment."

Rory opened her eyes. "That's called evasion."

"Uncanny."

"Jess!"

"My mom would get drunk sometimes and be sick all over herself," Jess said. "If I didn't help her get cleaned up she'd fall asleep like that on the couch and then the couch would smell like puke for a month," he explained. "So I just figured it out. A hand-held shower head and some shampoo. It's not rocket science."

"Oh," Rory said, so soft it was almost inaudible. "You don't drink, do you?"

"Nope," he answered. "Seen what it does, doesn't have an appeal."

"And stealing beer from my fridge?" she asked.

"Just doing what is expected of me."

"I'm so embarrassed," she whispered.

Jess shrugged. "They say it's best to make an ass of yourself while you're young. That way you have more time to erase it. Also, it lowers people's expectations. Nowhere to go but up, you know?"

Rory scooted over closer to Jess. "I'm gonna get grounded tomorrow."

"Yes, you are," Jess said, almost enjoying it.

"So I might not see you again for some time," Rory pressed on.

Jess turned to face her. "You're getting at something, but I don't quite see it."

"I want to kiss you now," Rory said, a slight smile on her lips.

"That's the booze talking," Jess replied, echoing the previous night's conversation. He inched forward just a little.

"But I haven't brushed my teeth yet," Rory whispered, inching forward as well.

Jess narrowed his eyes, just a little. "Mouthwash?" he asked, softly.

Rory nodded, the slightest nod known to man. She was breathing in his air, and it was as intoxicating as every image in her dreams.

Jess took a deep, shaky breath and smiled. "Good enough."

**THE END**

Hey! Thanks for reading. Just a fluffy something that jumped into my head when I read that Kerouac quote. The title _A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again_ belongs to a book of essays by the late, great David Foster Wallace. I love his work. Oh, and just a note. Not endorsing underage drinking here. At all. Am endorsing, however, oral hygiene. Just so we're clear. Please let me know what you thought!


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